


the babies of baker street

by black_box_boy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Non-Sexual Age Play, also none of these are edited so rip, anyway i love mary so put her here too but its mostly mycroft and greg, i mean but only a little tho, lmao ya but we love them boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-09-11 21:58:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16861027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_box_boy/pseuds/black_box_boy
Summary: just a bunch of super short stories that I write about myc Greg mary john and Sherlock





	1. Chapter 1

"myc! I need your help!" Greg called fast approaching. mycroft looked up to see Greg run into the living room with a pot holding a sad and droopy succulent.   
"so you know how we were supposed to water johns plant?"

"how you were supposed to water johns plant? yes I recall" Mycroft clarified 

'yeah well I forgot to do that and now its dead and we need to go buy another one so he won't hate me forever."

myc laughed and set his laptop down  
"he's not going to hate you forever. I'm sure if we get him a new one things will be fine." 

greg took a deep breath to calm himself.  
"right. you're right."

"arent I always. now come sit down, you worry too much."


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock trudged into the living room of 221b with his stuffed dog, vel, securely held in hand. He passed Mary, who was quietly Leaning against the island and drinking from a mug. 

“Good morning sweet boy.” She mumbled as she kissed his hair. He smiled at her as she straightened his pastel jumper  
“why don’t you go say hi to papa, huh?” 

Lock saw John sitting in his usual chair and sat beside it on the floor, closest to the lit fireplace.  
John noticed the young boy at his feet and rubbed the back of lock’s neck where it met his back. 

“Good morning lock.”  
He looked up at John and held vel closer. 

“Is someone feeling small today?” John quietly wondered to the boy. He nodded back, pulling his legs closer.

“Not very verbal, are we darling?” Mary asked, sitting in big sherlock’s usual chair.  
Lock nodded again. 

“Well then a certain little boy might want this.” John held up locks pastel yellow pacifier with a small Bee attached to it by a lanyard printed with flowers. The baby’s eyes lit up and he made quiet grabby hands. John chuckled and slipped the paci into locks mouth, looking up to Mary to make sure she saw how adorable their boy was.


	3. Chapter 3

“Pa!” John wailed, running into the room. Myc looked up just as a snot faced John came up in front of him.  
“Major got hurt.” He barely managed to say through his gasping breath and hiccups.  
“It’s alright John, deep breaths,” myc soothed, rubbing Johns chest in big circles, “pa can’t understand you when you’re all worked Up.”   
John held out his cow with dark blue spots and showed his pa the torn leg.  
“Oh dear. Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll take him upstairs to have da help me fix him and by the time dinner is over he’ll be good as new. Does that sound good?”   
John sniffled but nodded, very gently handing major over to his pa, and   
Waving bye as myc took him upstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

“Lock stop it.” John whined. For the past 15 minutes lock has been plucking and half heartedly running a bow across his violin with the the skill of, Well a 2 and a half year old. Why da ever thought it was a good idea for them to stay at the flat until later that night he would never know, but as of now John was growing increasingly more agitated with every pluck and sour note.  
“Lock!” John snapped, though non intimidating. The little boy looked up for a quick moment, and choosing not to listen to his brother, continued to play.   
Finally having enough, John stood from the couch and walked over to where lock sat and pushed him off the seat. Lock fell and his violin hit the floor with a hollow bang. Johns problem was easily solved and in the moment he was satisfied until he slowly heard lock begin to cry.   
“John Hamish Watson!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a part two to the chapter before this so yay storylines that actually end but not really

John froze where he was as Greg strode into the room. Without acknowledging him, da knelt by a crying lock and soothed him.   
“Are you hurt? Show da where it hurts...oh, baby.” He rocked the injured boy and spoke to him in a quiet tone. “Why don’t you go find vel and lay down in your room, alright? Da has to deal with trouble over there.” He gestured toward a guilty looking John and ushered lock out of the room.   
As soon as Sherlock was out of sight, Greg stood and sat on the edge of the leather couch   
“John. Here now.” He pointed at the open space between his legs and when the little boy slowly made his way to the spot, he grabbed an arm with each of his hands to keep control of him.   
“John, why did you do that?”  
John just grunted in response.  
“Answer me please.” Greg encouraged, trying to understand the boy.   
“Let go.” John wriggled   
“What you did to your little brother was wrong.”   
John pushed Greg with as much force as he could get considering his arms were being held.   
“Hey,” Greg started as a warning, tightening his grip on johns arm “We don’t hit, John. We don’t push, we don’t shove, we don’t act out in violence when things don’t go our way. Do you understand me?”   
John struggled to get out of Greg’s grasp  
Greg turned John so he was still and facing him. “Do you understand John?”  
“Stop!” John fussed.  
Greg tried to keep his tone even. “I can’t let you go until I know you understand.”  
John thrashed and squirmed for a few minutes, trying to break free, but soon it became very evident he wasn’t getting out. Finally and pitifully exhausted, John leaned forward until his head was on da’s shoulder, and cried.  
“Sh shh shhh, I know, I know. You’re frustrated and tired, but it’s going to be ok. Da’s here. It’s ok.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @iamiornman <3

“John!” Sherlock wailed, standing in the living room. John startled from his toys and shot up when the shout was followed by crying. He raced into the living room to find lock in tears   
“can’t find vel n bee!” He cried   
For a moment, John couldn’t figure out weather to calm lock down or get straight to business, but he figured if the former was done first, the later would come easier.   
John sat him down and took his face in his hands. He breathed slowly and deeply, and soon lock followed his actions. When both boys were calm enough, John stood.   
“Don’t worry we can find them.” He held his hand out to lock “come on little brother.”  
They looked behind couches and in cabinets, under pillows and around doorways but lock’s stuffies were nowhere to be found. Sherlock grew increasingly fidgety and upset. If John couldn’t find vel and bee then they must be gone forever.   
Lock has just let a new wave of tears run over his cheeks when a triumphant “aha!” Came from the bedroom. A proud John ran out to where Lock was standing and handed him the lost stuffies   
“They fell down last night and went under the bed”  
Lock held them relived then suddenly lunges forward and hugged John tightly   
“You’re the best brother ever!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than usual but I hope it’s ok

Eurus had started it.   
Well technically she had started it over three years ago. Three years ago when she put mycroft, John and himself through that awful experiment in sherinford. The way she grabbed his hand and screamed at him and made him hurt his friends and how she tortured His family. It all hurt so much. It hurt to think about, it hurt to remember, but most of all it hurt to dream about. To have a nightmare about that awful day and wake up screaming or crying or both.  
That’s how Sherlock had woken up.   
He was burning and freezing all at once and he couldn’t stop shaking and it was dark and he felt so alone. so he sobbed. And he cried for his pa. He hid his face in his arms and he cried for what felt the rest of his life when he suddenly felt arms wrap around him. Strong arms that pulled him close and a gentle voice that told him “shh, it’s alright, I’ve got you.”  
Strong arms picked him up and carried him silently out to the kitchen and he looked up and whimpered “pa...” as he started to sob  
Myc paced as quietly as he could in the space between the living room and kitchen. It was late, almost 5 in the morning, and he was pacing in the kitchen with a sobbing little boy. He put a slight bounce in his step, just subtle enough to be felt by lock but not shake him. He stood still and swayed slowly, he make a warm bottle, he got a cold pacifier, he whispered, he cooed, he kissed but for the life of him, nothing could calm down the wailing boy in his arms.  
Mycroft sat defeated in johns usual chair. Standing up and moving wasn’t helping, obviously. Sherlock was shaking, trembling in his lap. He could feel that he was sobbing but he couldn’t tell the difference between trembles and sobs as they shook his boy. He ran a hand through Lock’s hair and soothed him with shushing but it did little to help. He tried to use the rocking element of the chair to his advantage but it didn’t help either. He was desperate. The sun would come up soon and soon after that he would have another boy to watch, not to mention his wonderful but somewhat distracting husband. And if the sun came up before lock got back to sleep, he would never close his eyes. He needed to fix what was hurting in Sherlock.   
Mycroft stood and crossed the room to the leather couch. He laid back on the couch, lock’s head against his pa’s strong, beating heart. His sobs diminished to cries and as he attempted to catch his breath, Mycroft rubbed circles in his back. He breathed deeply to encourage the little boy to do the same. He was still crying. That wasn’t great. But he was improving. He ran a hand from the nape of his neck to the bottom of his spine and back again, and as he did so he hummed a tune sure to calm the despairing baby. Winnie the Pooh. Not really much of lock’s interest but as a child he loved it. He would wait up hours for myc to get home from his job then play with toys in his bed and listen to his big brother read to him about Christopher Robin and all his friends in the Hundred Acre Woods. It calmed him. It was mycroft’s failsafe. He knew if nothing in the world worked, Pooh would. As he hummed the song, he felt the tension in the boy drift away as he fell back to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as a background this is post tfp. Lock has been putting off slipping for a long time, but finally he shows up on the doorstep of the townhouse.

A loud knock on the door startled Greg awake. It was gloomy and cold and on those kinds of days his main focus is staying In bed for as long as possible, but a knock at two in the morning would get anyone up. He grabbed the closest item he could possibly hurt someone with and cautiously creeped toward the door. 

“Whoever is out there, I’m a officer. So before you try to break in just know I can have you-“ 

he opened the door as he was talking to see a sniveling Sherlock, and he stopped mid sentence, dropping the cane he’d thought he’d need.

“Lock?” 

A painful sob left the boys mouth 

“Hey hey hey, what’s going on?” He pulled him into his chest In the doorway. Lock gripped the front of his shirt for dear life, his whole body shaking.  
“Love?” Myc appeared behind them, wrapped in a dark blue night robe.   
At his voice, lock shrank into Greg, and the man’s eyebrows creased at the action. What would make their little boy be afraid of his pa? 

Greg closed the door behind them and guided the still crying boy into the living room.

“Hey hey, look at me, I’m right here.” He lifted Sherlock’s face from his chest to look into his eyes “it’s ok, just breathe. In and out.” 

Mycroft came up behind them and laid a soft hand on lock’s shoulder but the boy quickly jerked away. 

“Lock?” 

Words clogged lock’s throat but still he had to force out a sentence:   
“Don’t touch me.”  
His voice was raspy and broken, but it was still grown. He was still Sherlock. 

“Lock it’s just me.” Myc responded, confused by the chill in his voice.

“Go away” he growled 

“Sweetheart it’s your pa, you know him.” 

Lock jumped away from mycroft, and even though he was still grown, he clung to his da’s shirt for all he was worth. “No!” 

Myc stepped away, afraid of what’s to come. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk to you!” Sherlock protested.   
“You’ve been away for so long, did I do something wrong?” As sincere as he tried to be, confusion took hold of his voice

“You-you said I was stupid! That I was pathetic! That you hated me! That’s what you did wrong, ok?!” 

Myc froze. His hand rose to his mouth and he barely held together.

“I...” he slowly stepped closer “Sherlock...” he restarted.Even the Ice Man, the British government, the man who always knew what to do, was at a loss for words.

Every emotion was flowing through him. He was furious with himself for being so awful, he was heart broken that lock though all of it was true, he was afraid because he could lose his baby, his little brother, his boy. He was confused and concerned because how could he ever let it get this bad? How could he keep from seeing Lock this long? His mind was a whirlwind of disaster and he could barely say a word. So instead he just walked up to lock, and opened his arms. 

“No!” He pushed myc with every ounce of pain in him “you hurt me, can’t you see that?!” But even still, myc kept open his arms. 

“Do you know what it’s like to think about that for weeks?! I couldn’t sleep because of you! Im so. tired. mycroft.” His voice slowly faltered as myc pulled him into his chest.   
“Your fault...I-I need- I can’t- I...” he pounded his fist on his pa’s chest but soon he crumpled to the ground, mycroft sinking with him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” myc cried into lock’s curls “I don’t hate you, I’ve could never hate you. You’re so smart and sweet and amazing and I love you so much. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have...” he finally let everything go and sobbed into lock, mumbling the occasional “I love you” or “I’m sorry” or incoherent babbling as he scrambled to make his boy better. 

They sat on the floor in the living room, and the rug left light marks on his legs, but lock didn’t care. He was there with his pa and he didn’t hate him. He said he was smart. He’d been so afraid after sherinford. Myc had said so many things about him and it killed him. But pa was here, and he wasn’t letting him go.

**Author's Note:**

> Give me more short prompts to write for 💕


End file.
